


Soul Mates

by weethreequarter



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Married Couple, Memory Loss, Sifki Week 2018, Unrequited Love, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 02:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15921248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weethreequarter/pseuds/weethreequarter
Summary: A loved one with early onset dementia was never easy, but Sif’s husband seemed to take it harder than most.





	Soul Mates

**Author's Note:**

> Another Sifki Week 2018 drabble that is pure angst. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm really not.

When he told people his chosen profession, they always responded with words like “rewarding” and “enriching” and “noble”. No one ever mentioned how hard it was, or how depressing it was to see people slip away, piece by piece, their minds crumbling like dust even as their bodies survived intact. It was a cruel and unusual punishment, dementia, and working with sufferers was never easy. Working with early onset sufferers was downright heartbreaking. But still, in his own way, Peter loved it.

 

Alzheimer's affects the short term memory first. Which meant that even by the time these people had to move in to the home, they could still remember stories about their early years. And Peter loved chatting to them about the things they could remember, was great in fact at redirecting the conversation that way if one of his patients started to get distressed at forgetting or their sudden inability to do something they felt sure they should be able to do. And he could do it all while his heart broke. Like Stephen, who was once one of the best neurosurgeons in the world, until he lost his medical licence. Or Mr Barnes, who was so heartbreakingly caught between moments of lucidity when he knew where he was and what was happening, and his past where he was trapped screaming in a desert battlefield without his arm. Or Mr Stark, who was a renowned playboy in his youth, but could only talk about how beautiful his husband’s eyes were and wonder where his husband was, painfully unaware of his death two years ago. It was agonising and heartbreaking and Peter wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

 

And although he knew he wasn’t really supposed to have favourites among the patients, he did. And his favourite was Sif. 

 

Sif was a beautiful woman, with long dark hair that had only just begun to turn grey, and faint wrinkles around her eyes. It was easy for Peter to see why her husband loved her so dearly. In her fifties she was stunning. And in her mind, often, she was still a vivacious young woman in her twenties.

 

Her husband was a little more difficult. A loved one with early onset dementia was never easy, but Sif’s husband seemed to take it harder than most. Not that he ever showed it. Very private and personal was Mr Odinson. Stiff and formal, always immaculate in a suit and tie and long black hair. It had taken him a while, but eventually Peter had managed to get Mr Odinson to warm up to him. 

 

But there was more to it than merely wanting to support his favourite patient’s loved one. Peter knew, had been told multiple times in detail by Sif, that her soulmate was not her husband. Her soulmate was Thor, her husband’s brother. But Thor had the name Jane on his wrist, and after a long marriage and several children together, Thor and Jane were now happily retired in New Mexico. It broke Peter’s heart a little to see Mr Odinson’s face whenever Sif told the story - Mr Odinson visited her every day without fail - and witness the tiny cracks appear in his facade, through which Peter could see what could only be described as pure agony. 

 

“Loki doesn’t have a name,” Sif told Peter yet again. “I was lucky he wanted me.”

 

But Peter knew the truth. He’d seen it one day, walking into the staff restroom, only to find Mr Odinson in there despite the staff only sign. And Peter saw the writing on Mr Odinson’s wrist before he covered it again with his watch, the three cursive letters that matched the writing Peter was familiar with: Sif. 

 

“Don’t tell her,” Mr Odinson said, although it wasn’t a demand or an order. “After all these years, it’s better she never knows. She’d only forget anyway. Besides, I’d love her even without it.”

 

Peter nodded, and Mr Odinson relaxed, straightening his appearance before leaving the bathroom. Then Peter looked at the name upon his own wrist, and decided that perhaps it was time he started to look for this Wade, wherever he may be.

 

Because sometimes the pain was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


End file.
